


aftermath

by vivial



Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Short One Shot, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 08:48:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21033515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivial/pseuds/vivial
Summary: A short one-shot on Malcolm and Will dealing with their "murderer" labels.





	aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Someone suggested it on tumblr, and I decided "why not?".  
I like a challenge.

**I**

Hannah thinks Malcolm is tougher than he actually should be, but they speak very little of it. She can’t help but feel guilty; her daemon reminds her of the fact no one could have foreseen that outcome, despite the fact Hannah had recruited a child to work as an informant. No one assigned Malcolm to protect Lyra, nor to take her and set on a journey to give her to Lord Asriel in London. He did it all by himself, with no noble intent, but the simple and pure sense of kindness that kept him going.

She visits him regularly for the first week; he is dreadfully sick from the gunshot and the exposition to god-knows-what during the flood. Even with his stocky build, Malcolm looks small and vulnerable, soaking in his own sweat, slightly delusional from a bad fever, his daemon twisting around him in despair, changing several times, uneasy and in distress.

_ Of course he looks small _ , she thinks, _ he is a child, not even with a settled daemon yet _. He is in a better state on the second week, and that’s when he tells her about… everything, really.

Malcolm dreads every word he says, but he says them nonetheless, and his daemon comes to his aid, and they explain in a way that sounds almost apologetic. Malcolm, however, thinks he did something right, something anyone sensible should do under the same circumstances. “We saved Alice”, he says, shaking. They truly saved her, but the cost… He couldn’t begin to pinpoint the cost, he was too young for that, but it would eventually come to collect its due. Malcolm often thinks about the cost of Bonneville's life; not that it seemed to be worth anything, but the cost of killing is so, so high, he has trouble conceiving it.

Hannah thinks he is in a better state than she expected him to be, but Malcolm is just good in concealing his feelings, the pain he still feels for separating from Asta, the distress and wrath he felt when he attacked Bonneville with so little mercy he barely recognises himself now. He allows her to tell Oakley Street about Bonneville and they make sure to spread the news that he drowned and by the time he was found, his body was too decomposed to make a valid autopsy to explain his real death.

Asta often tells Malcolm that Bonneville was cruel and evil and that he wasn’t going to be missed, that what they did, however bad, had been done so some good could flourish from it, but that gives Malcolm little comfort. When his illness is finally gone, however, he uses that excuse to push through life, because it becomes harder to explain his melancholic disposition now that he is healthy again. How no one, not his parents, not Hannah, not even Alice, can understand what is happening on his mind and how it haunts him, day after day, night after night. Malcolm sometimes fails to see the difference between him and Bonneville, and Asta chastises him for that, because “it is nonsense, and you can’t possibly think that we are anything like they were.”

He’s lucky when the Master of Jordan offers him an opportunity for a higher education, so he clings onto books and stories and makes himself busy to avoid dwelling on it. It works well enough, for as long as he can remember, but the dread thought of being a murderer lingers in his mind and it taints his thoughts and keeps Malcolm aware that he will always feel like that, always with a lurking cruel memory of his own misdeed.

And he always feels like Heaven has imposed its weight on his shoulders, as he grows and he lives a happy enough life, stuck on his work and research, with his friends and his companions, joining Hannah’s organization so he can do some good - not exactly repent, but not entirely not that either. But the pleasure of being useful, of learning and teaching, of spreading knowledge makes Malcolm feel better and deal better with his own demons. Some days, he can even spend a whole day without thinking about it and when he does think about it now, older, wiser, more experienced than before, he no longer feels so wrong about it. It wasn’t a good thing, for sure, but when he visits Alice, and she’s content and well, Malcolm is certain that it was worth it.

**II**  


With Will, it is much different, but not quite so.

Mary knows him very little, but she thinks he is far too quiet for a normal child. She also visits him regularly, not as much as she would like, but enough that she makes him acknowledge he isn’t alone. He is grateful enough for that, but he keeps her away as much as he can. He feels like everything around him has the quirkiest tendency to die, in horrible ways for horrible reasons. Kirjava is quieter than he is and he envies her so much, because he would also love to stay quiet for extended periods of times.

To adjust in his own world again took some time, but it wasn’t as difficult as he thought it would be. There’s proper electricity and food and no theocracy to run from, but a vast and corrupt world, filled people with their own concerns and little imagination. Mary is the only one that gets it, but even she doesn’t get it enough. The wildest thing she did in her life was follow the advice from a computer, which led her to a different world for an adventure; she speaks of that with a light-hearted laughter now. Will envies her too, how light she felt when all he had within himself was… He had no name for it.

He often thinks of the man he threw off the stairs. The thought of him haunts Will forever, from the moment it had happened to the point where Will has children of his own, there isn’t peace, although there were moments when he could forget, or more likely, ignore. It’s a stain on his consciousness, but even Kirjava can’t stand his guilt. She chastises him for taking such a blame. “The cat got in his way, you didn’t kill him.” Will finds that hard to believe, and it’s harder because she is quite bitter, so her reassurance doesn’t sound comforting at all. He blames himself for that too; Kirjava had been brought to existence only to be abandoned in the Land of the Dead. He never demands anything from her; he feels like he owed her more than he could afford, but sometimes she is wise and gives him advice. She is a good listener, the only listener that can understand him to a certain degree. To Will, the world is plain and boring and violent and against him at every corner, if not for his mother or Mary; but to Kirjava, the world is bursting with flavour and colour, and all is new and object to her curiosity.

In the years after his return, Will begins to leave the man in the staircase behind, not entirely but enough, because suddenly he thinks of Tulio and blames himself for that death either. “That was self-defense and you did not give the killing blow.” Kirjava says, but Will can’t help but think he facilitated the death in many ways. As he grows older, he becomes harsher on himself, and more violent, and suddenly there is so much blame to be put on his shoulders that Mary visits him constantly now, worried that he might get into trouble. With Mary around to take care of his mother with him, he becomes angry at the slightest move of the wind and he can now afford to have outbursts. She breaks him out of prison twice, both times because he started fights in parks, but Mary is never angry; she is simply concerned.

She helps him get into college, and as Kirjava helps him with words, she tries to help him through action; both of them have a mild success, enough to keep him living and going and as functional as possible. Will begins to get better, only to fall into his cruel thoughts about himself, again and again, but he perseveres. His mother, his father, Baruch and the gallivespians… Suddenly he blames himself for things that aren’t even bad anymore, nor his fault. His father stings the most; he feels like he should've stayed put. When he thinks of the other deaths, the memory of the staircase man comes back and that's when he hurts the most._ If I hadn't killed him_, he thinks to himself, _others could still be alive_. "You didn't kill him, Will." Kirjava says to him, again and again, sometimes angry and sometimes bitter, and at certain times, even tender and caring.

With time and effort, he turns away from that though. “It does you no good to think you are the sole cause of your life’s misery.” Kirjava tells him one day, when he is at his clinic, a good fifteen years later. She sits by the window, taking in the fresh air and the landscape, while he is inside, talking to his patients, gifted, calm and resolute. He still feels guilty for the man, he dreams of him constantly, but not as much as before. Will notices that the more people he helps, the less dreams he has; so, he takes the stain of being a murderer and locks it away, and turns his willpower to blame himself into something productive.

He compensates the life he took by saving as many as he can. “It’s a worthy thing to do.” He tells himself, every morning, afternoon and evening; every day of every year for the rest of his life.


End file.
